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“So you’re not going to see him again?”
“I didn’t say that…”
“So youaregoing to see him again…”
“Jesus, Bon, can you not? I promise there is nothing between us, despite what TMZ would have you believe. Unless you count my extreme dislike of all that he represents.”
“I don’t know, you don’t look like you dislike him in the pictures. I could seriously get on board with you having a hot Hollywood affair. I’m just saying.” She giggles, clearly trying to lighten how seriously I’m taking all this.
“I would never…” I think about how my father would react. How hewillreact when he sees these pictures.
“You know, not every man is Alfred Bronson, right?” I cringe at the sound of his name.
Alfred Bronson is a legend in Hollywood, but to me he’ll always be the man who destroyed my family.
Bonnie witnessed it all up close. The impact his affair with my mom had on my family. The affect it had on my mother. He broke her in a way I didn’t know was possible to break another human. And my poor dad, suffering from his own broken heart, had to be there to piece her back together. I know he did it for my sake, but regardless, he still did it. And I’m so thankful he did. Because I don’t know that I’d still have a mother had he not intervened when he did.
I shudder at the thought.
“I know that,” I finally force out. “But men like Treyton, they’re always out for something.”
“Yeah, what’s between your legs, if his reputation precedes him.” I can see her raising her eyebrows up and down in dramatic fashion at this very moment. “I mean, I’d hit that.”
“There isn’t much you wouldn’t hit,” I fire back jokingly.
“Not fair. Just because I’m free with my body doesn’t mean I don’t have standards.”
“Free.” I snort. “Probably not the best way to refer to your body.”
“Oh, bite me.” She laughs, not taking even the smallest offense to my teasing.
Bonnie has been my best friend since eighth grade. And while she now lives in San Francisco, and I don’t see her nearly as much as I’d like, we are still as close as ever and talk on the phone at least twice a week, every week. She’s one of those artsy people that paint murals and sidewalks, spreading their creativity everywhere they go. I’ve always envied her talent, as anyone who sees what she’s capable of would.
“Listen, I have to go, my clients are here.” I cut the conversation short when I see Bob Hansen and his wife Jenny climb from their minivan, their teenage, twin girls emerging from the backseat.
“Fine, but I expect a full report later. Details, woman. I need details.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I chuckle. “Love you, Bon.”
“Love you, too.”
I wait until the line goes dead before sliding my cell into the front pocket of my sleek suit jacket, plastering on a smile as I pull open the door and welcome my clients inside.
It’s just after three o’clock in the afternoon when I finally make it home. Much as I expected, Bob and Jenny loved the house and made an offer right there on the spot. It’s already been accepted by the seller, and I would chalk that up as a good day.
Tossing my keys onto the kitchen island, I no more than slip out of my jacket when there’s a knock on my door.
My stomach twists, knowing it’s likely my mom who loves popping in unannounced. She does it so often the lobby staff doesn’t even alert me anymore, they just let her up.
What if she’s seen the pictures? How willshereact?
I know the best thing would be to come right out and tell her and my father about them. Explain the situation and nip it in the bud right away. But the other part of me is really hoping I can avoid the conversation all together and like most tabloid photos, mine will simply fade into the background and my parents will be none the wiser.
After all, they really were innocent photos. At first they felt life ending but once I really looked at them, I don’t know, I guess I decided that as far as paparazzi photos go, they’re pretty lame.
Groaning outwardly, I stomp toward the front door like a pouty child and tug it open, ready to face whatever the universe has decided to throw at me. That is, until I see a lazy smile and a mess of dirty blond hair sticking out from underneath a black ball cap on the other side of the door.
What the…
